


Sportsmanship

by divagateros



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Friendship, High School, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:59:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9606701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagateros/pseuds/divagateros
Summary: Kaiba has joined Domino High and so far, it's just about the worst place he's ever had to be. Bullies run rampant and unchecked, and he's been selected as friend by Yugi, who is a magnet for trouble. Kaiba is caught in a complicated tangle of friendship that he must unravel in order to help save Wheeler and Yugi's lives. A kind of rewrite of the pilot, with more Kaiba.





	1. The Dodgeball Game

"Remember always that a wise man walks with his head bowed; humble like the dust." -Master Kan, _Kung-Fu._

He had no introduction nor grand entrance. He merely appeared in a seat in the back of English one day with his long snubbed-nose buried in a book, his eyelashes twitching as he read. His face was sharp but he had cherub cheeks and his blue eyes sparkled like light on water. He made no move to speak to the other students as they settled into their seats, and he ignored them as they slammed their books onto the tables. They laughed and kicked each other’s shins, punched shoulders and scattered the contents of pencil cases across their desks; he remained still as stone as if the world could collapse around his lofty ears and the only move he would make at all would be to occasionally lift one long-fingered hand to softly turn the page of his book.

When the register was called, and he answered a simple, distinct, ‘Present,’ the whole class twisted to look at him, hiding behind the kids in front or casting what they thought were surreptitious glances over their shoulders to catch a glimpse.

Seto Kaiba answered questions when asked them directly, stood to read when called upon in a strong, no-nonsense voice, and filled out the answer sheet with ten minutes to spare. He spent those last minutes reading of course, his uniform crisp as paper on his shoulders and his chestnut hair brushing the line of his furrowed brows.

At the front of the class, a boy with his uniform peeling off him in scruffy fistfuls, his bleached hair a matt of grease, chewed the dirt under his nails and eyed him scornfully.

-

The school Kaiba had been incarcerated in had wintry ashen walls and bars like metal vines on the windows. The veins of the school twisted up and away from the heart of the reception desk in long spidery corridors, and each classroom was a long-dead cell in its capillaries. The students coursed through like bacteria, beating bags against each other’s shins and scratching the peeling paint off the walls in their destructive path.

Kaiba’s second class was computing. He followed the rabble through the corridors, his bag heavy against his hip, his eyes ahead. Students gave him a wide berth, fearing those flashing eyes and the disinterested, hard line of his mouth. The halls here were wide and clinical, with strong squat doors and linear bars of light protruding from the ceiling tiles. There was plenty of space to walk undisturbed. The boy who had been glaring at him all of English had disappeared.

He shouldered his way into the classroom behind a short, pleasant-looking boy with a geeky rucksack and hair styled into high spikes. The boy held the door for Kaiba who hoped a stoic nod was enough thanks. He choose a seat again near the back of the class facing the wall, hidden behind rows of heavy black monitors, and found the short boy had plopped himself next door.

“I’m Yugi Muto,” he said, smiling warmly. “You’re new, aren’t you? Erm, Kaiba.”

Kaiba nodded again, copying Yugi as he booted up the PC.

“Well, welcome to Domino High, I guess,” Yugi continued. “Do you like it so far?”

Kaiba pursed his lips, watching the ‘loading’ bar on the monitor tick upwards slower than a second hand on a clock.

“Couldn’t possibly be worse,” he grunted.

Yugi seemed to be confused by this. Kaiba rolled his eyes.

“When is lunch?” he asked.

Yugi glanced at the clock on the wall. “Not until one.”

Kaiba closed his eyes; when he opened them the computer was still loading.

Almost halfway into the lesson, the door to the classroom was booted open, and in walked the scruffy boy from first period. He looked worse, with a bruise above his eyebrow and his shirt torn. He walked with a slouch and a sneer, wordlessly challenging anyone who made eye-contact with him to comment. The teacher, a tall man with glasses perched on a long, beaky nose, paused in his spiel.

“Nice of you to make the effort to join us, Wheeler,” he remarked. Wheeler grinned, showing a set of charmingly wonky teeth, and finger-gunned in the teacher’s direction. “You are in a sorry state. That uniform is totally unacceptable.”

Wheeler’s face dropped into a hard scowl. “Bite me,” he said and moseyed into the classroom.

“Detention.”

“Whatever.”

The teacher seemed to have had this conversation a hundred times and merely sighed, waving his dismissal.

It was at this point Kaiba noticed that Yugi had frozen hunched over his computer, staring resolutely at the screen without actually doing anything. He had kicked his bag far under the desk and his ears were burning red. Meanwhile, across the students’ heads, Wheeler had spotted Yugi at the back of the class, a spiteful grin contorting his features.

Kaiba watched Wheeler swagger over. He had no bag and his fingers were deep in his pockets. He dropped into the plastic swivel chair next to Yugi and jammed the ‘on’ button on the system with the toe of his trainer. Yugi was staring at his keyboard so hard that it might burst into flames. His face was bright red.

“Yo, shrimp,” said Wheeler harshly and Yugi flinched. “I forgot a pen, you lend me one, yeah?”

Instantly, Yugi dived into his bag and fished out a biro, which he passed over without a word. Wheeler immediately put it between his teeth.

“Who’s the new guy?” Wheeler asked, nodding over at Kaiba. Kaiba spared him a glance but nothing more. A few people in the row behind them twisted around as their curiosity peaked. “Hey, new guy, what’s your name?”

“Kaiba,” he said simply.

“Stupid name.”

Yugi looked like he wanted to die. Kaiba closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. He poignantly turned his back on Wheeler and returned his attention to the lesson. Wheeler dismantled the pen Yugi had lent him and began fishing pieces of used tissue out of his pocket. He rolled them into tight balls and used the hollowed pen as a makeshift peashooter to fire the tissue-balls at the back of Kaiba’s head.

After the bell rang, Kaiba ignored Yugi’s imploring gestures that they should walk to their next class together and pursued Wheeler as he made a beeline for the exit. Halfway down an empty corridor, Kaiba grabbed the back of Wheeler’s uniform and slammed him into a wall, jamming his elbow into the nape of Wheeler’s neck as he yelped.

“Pull anymore shit like that,” Kaiba thundered, “and I will personally see to it that you are expelled.”

Wheeler’s eyes were wide as dinnerplates. Kaiba saw they were an earthy brown.

The colour of shit, he thought.

Wheeler kicked backwards at his shins and Kaiba let go, stepping back. Kaiba swerved as Wheeler swung a wild punch; it missed and Wheeler fell into the opposite wall.

“You can’t take me,” Wheeler spat. “I can fucking kill you.”

This might have been convincing if Wheeler’s voice had not cracked as he said it. Kaiba hoisted his bag back onto his shoulder where it had slipped in the altercation and lifted his nose high in the air

“You are nothing but a mangy, cowering dog,” he said simply, as if it was dictionary-defined, and walked away. Once around the corner, Kaiba heard Wheeler kick a wall and stomp off.

Biology and maths passed without incident, other than Kaiba finding himself unfathomably bored. Yugi seemed to have attached himself to Kaiba, perhaps feeling that their isolation was something they had in common. The difference, however was tragic. Kaiba’s was self-inflicted.

Wheeler made no appearance until lunchtime.

In the cafeteria, Kaiba sat himself at the end of a long table, a good number of seats from the nearest person. He pulled out a book and a pot of soup and began to read. Yugi fetched himself a sandwich and joined him in silence. He seemed to have decided the best strategy to being Kaiba’s friend was to stay quiet and just be there. The boy was so lonely that a friend who never spoke to him was better than no friend at all.

Presently their silent comradery was interrupted. Wheeler appeared, sauntering towards them with his rank, cocky grin. He looked a little grim around the eyes and as he got closer, Kaiba realised he stank of cigarettes. He was not alone this time: beside him walked a tall, darker-skinned boy with a sharp Mohawk fringe. His face was hard-set and his uniform pristine.

“That’s him, Taylor,” Wheeler said, pointing. “That’s the boy that attacked me earlier.”

Taylor frowned in Kaiba’s direction. Beside him, Wheeler grinned nastily.

“Did you?” Taylor asked in a voice that sounded somewhat authoritative. Kaiba swallowed his spoonful and lowered his book politely.

“We had words,” was all he offered. “After computing.”

“Did you punch him?”

“No.”

“Did you threaten his life?”

“No.”

“Did you say you were going to ‘stab him so hard that he shits all of his organs at once and then make him choke on them’?”

Kaiba snorted with laughter. “I wish I had the imagination.”

Taylor turned to Wheeler who was flushing puce. “Your word against his, man. And you know there’s nothing I can do. Who they gonna believe? You stink of smoke and your knuckles are fucked up. Look at him.” Taylor indicated Kaiba’s pristine uniform and his scholarly literature. “Who they gonna believe? Sorry, man,” he added to Kaiba. “See you.”

With that he disappeared and they were alone. Well, alone as one can be in a chattering, crowded cafeteria. Wheeler’s face contorted with fury. He slapped Kaiba’s book out of his hands and snatched up Yugi’s sandwich. “You watch it, Kaiba,” he snarled. “Last period. I’m gonna fuck you up.”

With that, Wheeler shouldered his way through the crowd, stuffing the sandwich between his chops. Kaiba delicately retrieved his book and pushed his soup toward Yugi as he asked, “What does he mean?”  
“Last period,” Yugi said miserably, accepting the soup. “Gym. Dodgeball.”

Kaiba raised his eyebrows. Dodgeball. “Ah.” He lifted his open book to hide his grin. Dodgeball could be fun.

-

On the return from lunch, Yugi had taken up chattering about some girl he was crushing on, in a guarded but enthusiastic tone, keen to impart some information about himself to Kaiba, who was infallible in his disinterest to all subjects but studious ones. Kaiba was dutifully ignoring him, still buried in the book from lunchtime, when Yugi’s babbling abruptly ceased. Kaiba looked up. They were in a tight, multi-windowed corridor with a handful of other students. As he watched, they pressed themselves against the windows unanimously, eyes on the threadbare carpet. Kaiba followed the line of windows with his eyes until the terminal one, and saw that, along the corridor, at the far end, came towards them a student with hulking, slanted shoulders and monumental eyebrows the colour of tar. His hair was carefully slicked back with what must have been half a vat of grease and his feet nearly cracked the floorboards with every tread.

As he came closer, Kaiba could see the mean turn of his flat, wide lips and smell the scent of his overpowering cologne. Suppressing a choke, he stepped to the side to allow this beast of a boy to pass, and for a moment their eyes locked. As he left, Kaiba thought he might have imagined the approving twist of his head.

“I thought you might have said something to him,” admitted Yugi to Kaiba when the boy was out of earshot. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“I don’t think there’s a soul under this roof that foolish,” Kaiba said with a troubled scowl. “Who is that?”

“Trudge,” Yugi muttered, and his voice was clipped with qualm.

That afternoon, Yugi and Kaiba changed silently side-by-side in the moments before gym class. Yugi was terribly nervous; his little hands trembled as pulled on his shorts, but he had no choice but to file in with the others. The cavernous sports hall echoed with the sound of their trainers squeaking on the polished floor like angry mice as they lined up to pick the teams. Wheeler, of course, sauntered into the hall a good minute after the captains were chosen, and stood deliberately beside Kaiba so that he could throw him nasty, smug looks with ease. Kaiba ignored them and surreptitiously eyed the contours of his impressive chest through the flaccid material of his stained polo shirt. His shoulders were stocky and he rolled them a lot, while his legs were strong and defined, like a horse’s. Kaiba tried not to feel self-conscious about his own thin, lanky legs.

The team captains had been chosen at random but the teams were not, and the first to get picked was Wheeler. He flipped Kaiba a finger and that cocky grin as he sauntered over to his captain.

To Wheeler’s humiliation, Kaiba was picked second. Despite his skinniness, he too had a lean physique and was light on his feet. It also did not hurt that he was the tallest in the class, towering above all the others by at least a foot. The other captain seemed he was a risk worth taking. As he took his place across the pitch, he caught Wheeler’s resentful scowl and found himself smirking right back. Yugi, of course, was picked last, and he was on Kaiba’s team.

The coach, a withering man who barely spoke above a whisper, blew a short blast on his whistle and demanded (quietly) they get into play. Kaiba palmed the wall of the gym, returning Wheeler’s anticipatory grin. The balls were laid out, and with another whistle blast, the game began.

Kaiba could see why Wheeler was a popular choice. His eyes were wild as desert wind, his hair like a coarse jungle. He threw himself into play immediately, snatching a ball from the court and lobbing it hard at Kaiba’s side. Most players managed to scatter but not all. It whipped past Kaiba’s shin and smacked another boy on the ankle. He sulked as he shunted to slump against the right-side wall, the skin of his leg now a smart ruby colour.

Kaiba meanwhile had drawn another ball into his hands and twisted into play. He slunk down like a cat, ducking a ball that was sent whizzing towards him, and whipped the one in his hands across the hall with a bang, but it connected with the edge of Wheeler’s gym shorts and they whooshed up as if caught in a high wind. Unstoppable, the ball careened into another boy’s backside and he was sent flying.

Wheeler slid to the centre line. He had snatched up Kaiba’s ball as it was sent back and now slammed it hard in Kaiba’s direction, but as Kaiba dived away from the ball his eyes suddenly caught on something. Wheeler’s toe was a quarter of an inch over the centre line.

Only Kaiba had noticed, as focused on Wheeler as he was. Wheeler had noticed too, and quickly drew back his toe, searching Kaiba’s face to see if he would call it. They both knew if Kaiba said anything then Wheeler would be out.

Kaiba broke eye contact and looked away, returning his attention to the game.

Wheeler seemed stunned. He backed off, searching for another ball to throw. This one had much less power to it and was nowhere near aimed at Kaiba. They caught eyes again and Wheeler’s mouth twitched. He tore his eyes away and his ears were burning.

Soon, only three remained. Kaiba alone on his side, and Wheeler with one supporting lackey. Balls bounced a tremendous racket throughout the hall, slamming off the walls and sometimes the ceiling, but always missing their targets. Kaiba’s team were cheering earnestly: no one could remember the last time someone got this close to beating Wheeler. Their cries only added to the cacophony.

Eventually Wheeler’s teammate was hit with a stray ball that bounced off the side and whacked him in the hip. He threw his arms up in defeat with a laugh and slapped hands with his teammates as he joined them on the side, grinning.

Alone on the pitch, Wheeler and Kaiba eyed each other up, a ball in each of their hands, feet scuffing the floor as they measured the space. The hall was quiet now, save for the squeak of their trainers on the polish and their heaving breaths. Something ticked over, a decision was made and they raised their arms to deliver the final throw-

A shrill, rattling bell pierced the silence. Almost everyone jumped and began to scramble to their feet. A couple of people clapped Kaiba on the shoulder as they left, and Yugi patted his arm encouragingly. They all seemed to be in a hurry to escape, piling towards the double doors. Even Wheeler had discarded the ball without a moment’s hesitation and was shuffling to the exit.

“Hold on a mo’,” said the aging coach. “Would you and Mister Kaiba do me the favour of tidying away the equipment, Joey? My back is sore today.”

“Aw, c’mon, Mr H,” Joey grumbled eyeing the retreating backs of the other students with envy. “I wanna get outta here.”

“I’m sure you do, but it beats having to go straight to detention, doesn’t it?” Mr Horace said kindly. Joey rolled his eyes.

“Like I was even gonna go to-”

“Mr Wheeler,” Horace warned. He smiled and indicated the equipment cupboard. “Kindly show Mr Kaiba where these belong. I will inform Mr Simmon that you will be late.”

With that he shuffled away. The echo of the door banging shut rang through the sports hall.

“Fuck’s sake,” Wheeler grumbled. He dumped himself onto a bench and glared at Kaiba with his hands in his pits. “Pisses me off.”

“Don’t think I’m happy about this either,” Kaiba grumbled. He folded his arms. “I have places I am required to be.”

“Whatever,” said Wheeler, shrugging a shoulder tightly. “Get on with it then.”

“Don’t know where things go, do I?” Kaiba challenged. “Let’s just get it done.”

“Or what?” Wheeler said. He stretched out luxuriously and Kaiba saw a thin pale line of toned belly under his shirt. “I figure the longer I sit here the less time I’m gonna be in detention.”

“I thought you had no intention of going,” Kaiba said.

“Yeah, well.” Wheeler shifted in his seat. “Don’t wanna get suspended again, to be honest.” Then he glared. “If you tell anyone I said that-”

Kaiba cut him off with a shrug. “Like I care what you do.”

Wheeler seemed satisfied with that. He rubbed his nose with grubby fingers. “Fine then. The balls go in the big basket thing and the benches just get shoved against the wall.”

He got to his feet and grabbed the end of a bench. Taking the hint, Kaiba hoisted up the other side and together they tidied them away. They tossed the balls into a large, blue wire basket and slid the doors shut. They made their way to the deserted changing rooms in silence.

Wheeler made for his bag and whipped his polo shirt off with his back to Kaiba. In the bustle of the changing rooms earlier, Kaiba had failed to notice the scars and bruises purpling Wheeler’s back. It was disturbing: a map of sorts, like someone was carving a painful path across his mottled skin. Wheeler whipped his regular shirt on and hauled his jumper over his head. Not once did he look at Kaiba and was done dressing before Kaiba had even removed his clothes.

“Bye,” he grunted as he slipped past. Kaiba watched him go, fitting his shirt to his shoulders casually.

“Have fun in detention,” he mocked.

Wheeler threw him a final scowl. “Fuck off, Kaiba.”

-

The rest of the week passed as expected. Kaiba quickly became known as the quiet guy that the thug Joey Wheeler had a vendetta against and made no friends. Yugi barely counted. He hung around when he was not being picked on and barely said a word. He seemed to attract trouble. Bullies honed in on him every day, although never physically. It would have been bad sport even for them to smack around someone his size.

He spent a lot of time after class fiddling with a strange golden box with a series of bizzarely shaped pieces that looked to Kaiba for all the world like lumps of shiny cheese. He was obsessed with it. He once tried to explain what this was about, but was cut short by one of Kaiba’s withering glares. He did not seem to mind the snub and went back to assembling, humming contentedly to himself.

Wheeler still tormented Yugi on occasion, but since dodgeball, seemed to have gone off picking on Kaiba. He was still unpleasant and foul-mouthed and would spit on their heads when they walked below staircases. Once Taylor caught him doing this and wrote him up on a warning for suspension. That put a stop to it pretty quickly.

Kaiba struggled to fathom Taylor’s role. He was a student, but could hand out detentions like a teacher. He seemed to wield more authority than a hall-monitor and was even somewhat respected. Kaiba later learnt that Taylor’s father was the Principal, and instead of acting out about it, Taylor took on the rather mature role of enforcing his father’s legacy. Kaiba held no interest for the politics of the school but a friend of the Principal’s could come in handy. Apparently most of the student body had this idea which was probably why Taylor’s authority went so unchallenged.

Taylor was also sort-of Wheeler’s friend but perhaps only because he was putting him in detention so often.

Apart from the odd incident, Kaiba and Wheeler never crossed paths. At least, not until a rainy afternoon a quarter of the way through the school year.

Yugi had recently been in frequent conversation with a girl from their class called Téa. A sweet girl for the most part, but in possession of a fiery temper. She had wild, short brown hair and thick, dark eyebrows. She seemed to have taken pity on Yugi recently and once or twice told Wheeler to fuck off when he was giving Yugi a hard time. This sent him raging, naturally, but he was loathe to strike a girl, and so would often take his anger out on some defenceless railing or a tree. During this time, Téa would comfort Yugi and ask after his hobbies. She ignored Kaiba for the most part, which was just peachy for him.

Apparently the puzzle Yugi was assembling was a rare Egyptian artefact that allowed the solver to ask a wish of sorts upon completion. Téa listened with bright eyes, and Kaiba, who had taken to reading late after school when Yugi sat and played with his puzzles, guffawed in the corner.

“What’s so funny?” Téa demanded. “I think it sounds fascinating.”

“Yeah, if you’re a gullible moron,” Kaiba grunted, amused. “I wouldn’t listen to Yugi, he clearly isn’t the brightest.”

A cold silence fell. Kaiba turned a page of his book with a flaccid paper sound. Yugi’s ears were burning.

“Geez, Kaiba, they’re right what they say about you,” Téa snarled. “You really are an asshole.”

Kaiba slapped his book shut and stomped to his feet, jamming it in his bag. He swept out of the classroom, offering one cold glance over his shoulder as he reached the door. “Someone remind me why I have been left in this insufferable hellhole for so long,” he said to no-one in particular and left.

He swept down the empty corridors, listening to the rain pounding on the windows down one side, fed up with this place, these people. He had not asked for Yugi’s companionship. He was perfectly happy alone. Between defenceless sap Yugi, the thug Wheeler, that dolt Taylor, and the mountain of homework they assigned him every bleeding hour he was going to walk out, consequences be damned.

He dug for his umbrella, jogging down two flights of stairs and whirled around a corner. Just as he did this, a body flew through the double doors at the bottom and crashed into him with grunt and a flash of bleached hair. Kaiba caught his balance on the stair rail, already knowing who had nearly knocked him flying.

Wheeler straightened up quickly. He looked awful; his wild hair was plastered to his scalp and he was pale with cold. His uniform was torn and drenched. Both sets of knuckles were bloody and he had a split lip which he used to leer at Kaiba as Kaiba stared. His eyes were wild as a demon’s.

“Oh it’s you,” he snarled, wiping blood on the back of his hand. Kaiba glanced down at his uniform and noticed the smears of maroon staining the navy. He glared. “It usually washes out,” Wheeler mocked, eyeing the bloodstains.

“I didn’t ask,” commented Kaiba.

“Yeah, well, whatever.” Wheeler shoved his hands into his pockets. “Why you here so late anyway? Studying, nerd?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Kaiba punched his umbrella open, which Wheeler roughly sidestepped. “Only you look like shit.”

“Busy, aren’t I?” Wheeler sneered, wiping his nose-blood on his sleeve again. “Gotta teach some punks a lesson, sometimes, you know?”

“Ah, yes,” said Kaiba darkly. “Beating on some defenceless child again, were we?”

Joey looked murderous. “What do you know?” he snarled. “Maybe I was, then, how would that make you feel?”

Kaiba opened his mouth to say that he didn’t really care at all, but the sound of quick footsteps on the stairs made them both pause and look up. Téa came hurrying down towards them, fury setting her mouth in a hard line. She rounded on Kaiba.

“You are such an ass,” she accused in a low voice so as to shut Wheeler out. He seemed unconcerned, and began scuffing up parts of the carpet with his toe. “I just spent the last couple minutes comforting Yugi. He is so upset about what you said and you don’t even care. I hope you choke on your dinner tonight and I’m warning you that if you lay a finger on him ever then I will rake your eyes out, Kaiba! Same goes for you,” she bawled at Wheeler, who shrugged.

With that she stomped away, tears sparkling in her eyes.

Kaiba glared at the floor for a few moments, seething. Then he composed his expression and settled his gaze on Wheeler, who was now doodling dragons on the school wall with a marker pen as if nothing had happened.

“Hey, Wheeler, guess who’s all alone upstairs?”

-

After Wheeler had dashed off Kaiba left for the library where he whiled away an hour or so with his books. The student librarian was his only company this afternoon (who wisely kept her distance), so he should have been able to concentrate, only his mind was scattered as a dropped jigsaw. Each piece he flipped was Téa’s vicious screech; Wheeler’s sorry face and the bruises on his back. Or Yugi’s gritted teeth as a new torment circled him like a vulture. School, Seto decided, was a horrid place.

As the clock ticked towards six, Kaiba made his way to the school gates. A car was on its way, so he settled against the railing to wait. The still-pouring rain hammered on the petals of his umbrella, running off in streams to splash on the pavement and his shoes.

From underneath the black lining of the umbrella, Kaiba could see approaching feet. He tilted it upwards and before him stood Trudge, looking imposing. Kaiba noted a bruise on his right eye and two sets of bloody knuckles. Behind him, a fair distance away, two young thugs were hammering blows into a whimpering schoolboy. Kaiba warily palmed the phone in his coat pocket.

“Kaiba,” Trudge thundered, his voice like a trombone filled with glass. Kaiba’s frown deepened imperceptibly. “Heard you been having some trouble with a Joey Wheeler punk?”

“Not really,” Kaiba began, but Trudge continued as if he had not heard.

“We don’t like Wheeler, do we boys?” he asked of the thugs behind him. They responded with leering grimaces. Kaiba could see they too were sporting bruises and one of them seemed to have a limp. “He jumped us pretty hard today so we’re looking for an excuse to pound on him.”

“What makes you think I need you to fight my battles for me?” Kaiba said evenly, as the two boys returned to their sport.

Trudge smiled unpleasantly, greasing back his hair with rainwater. “It’s not a favour,” he said, “more like a service. Think of us as… for hire.”

Kaiba sneered. “You reckon I’m going to pay for you to have your ass kicked by Joey Wheeler? Pull the other one,” he snarled. “What did he do?” he added, gesturing to the small boy with the bloodied nose. “Is he about the right size for three of you thugs to take on?”

“Help,” the boy said weakly.

“He… owed us a debt,” said Trudge, turning purple. Kaiba was grateful that his manservant’s car pulled up to the gate just then as Trudge’s hands balled into fists. “And Wheeler will get what’s coming to him,” he warned.

The thugs straightened up as the posh car swung onto the curb and the boy seized the opportunity to grab his bag and flee. Kaiba watched him go, bent double, and pictured Wheeler taking a swing at the two cronies flanking Trudge on either side as they rounded on a defenceless kid.

“If Wheeler is taking out punks like you then I think what’s coming to him could be a medal,” he growled, swinging his bag into the back of the car. “Don’t ever speak to me again.”

With that he swept into the passenger seat and Roland pulled away.

“Friends of yours?” he asked in his deep creaking voice.

“Please, Roland,” said Kaiba, tugging out his book. “I’ll throw up my lunch.”

-

Taylor was dragging Joey down a deserted corridor. His tenacious fist choked the grubby grey collar at the nape of Joey’s neck, forcing him to march at a crouch, castigating him like a child as they went. Joey rolled his eyes and squeezed his fingers into his fist, feeling the jagged edge of the stolen component dig deliciously into his palm.

Taylor had walked in to the classroom to find Wheeler stood before Yugi, holding an ornate golden treasure box high above his head. Yugi was leaping like a frog, his tiny stubby hands barely brushing the crook of Wheeler’s arm, tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes. It was a sorry sight. Taylor interfered as he felt was only right, dragging Wheeler’s arm down and wrestling the box from his grip.

“Come on, Taylor,” Wheeler had protested. “I’m trying to teach him how to fend for himself. Look at him, he’s like a weed.”

“Can it, Joey,” Taylor had said. Wheeler sulked, jamming his hands into his pits. “Here, Muto. Watch yourself.”

Yugi thanked him energetically as the box was passed over, and instead of making himself scarce, plonked his little backside back into his chair and checked the curious box carefully for damage.

Taylor had then rounded on Wheeler, determined to slam some sense into his empty, garbage head, but just then Miho, a small, attractive girl from their class carrying an armful of library books had passed by the doorway. She paused, peeking inside.

“Oh, hi,” she said meekly. Wheeler gave an awkward wave. “I was just at the cafeteria but there was no-one there and I’m starving.” She paused expectantly and Taylor took the bait.

“It’s late,” he said eagerly, by way of explanation. “But there’s a vending machine down the hall. I can grab you something if you like and meet you back here?”

Her face brightened. “Would you? I’m sorry to just send you off like that but these books are so heavy.” She swept past them and dumped them on a table with a thud.

“No problem,” said Taylor. “We’ll be right back. Won’t we, Joey?”

“Whatever,” Joey grunted and felt himself be yanked out of the classroom as Miho spotted the puzzle box. They had heard her sweet soprano voice trill a curious, “What’s that, Yugi?” as they marched down the corridor.

“Come on, Tristan,” Wheeler said as they reached the vending machine, finally ripping Taylor off. “He needs someone to get him to act like a man or he’ll just get bullied his whole life.”

“Yeah, by people like you,” Taylor snapped. “You’re part of the problem, Joey, not the solution.” They had stopped by a wide, dirty window that overlooked the school pond. The sky was grey and clouded over, making the water’s depth look murky and bleak. Wheeler leaned obnoxiously against the wall, tossing something in his palm that glittered when it caught the dying light.

“What have you got?” Taylor asked, extending a hand for the object, but Wheeler swept it out of reach.

“Only a bit of that stupid puzzle thing,” Wheeler said smugly. Taylor scowled.

“You shouldn’t have taken it.”

“What you gonna do, fight me?” Wheeler challenged, straightening up. “I’ll knock you down, Taylor.”

“I’m not going to fight you, idiot, but what you’re doing is wrong,” Taylor remarked. “You’re going to get in big trouble someday.”

“Whatever.” Joey went back to leaning and tossing, his face turned away. Taylor began to dig in his pockets for some change for the vending machine when footsteps along the walkway made the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. His head snapped up. Trudge was striding down the corridor looking as calm as can be with his hands dug deep into his pockets. He deliberately jammed shoulders with Taylor as he ground past, flashing him a smarmy glance. Before Taylor could say a word, Wheeler jumped in.

“Hey, watch it,” he snarled, waving a fist. “Or I’ll-”

Quick as a flash, Taylor grabbed Wheeler by the head and slapped a palm over his mouth. Change jingled as it bounced like fireworks on the tiles.

“Ignore him,” Taylor said laughing nervously. “He’s talking to me, of course. It was my fault, I was in the way.”

Trudge grunted, barely sparing them a glance. He made a comment about Wheeler’s dirty uniform and stomped away. The windows practically rattled as he passed.

“Will you stop that?” Wheeler grumbled, tossing Taylor aside like a crisp packet. “He has it coming.”

“You idiot, he’ll destroy you.” Taylor began to gather his coins, jamming them into the machine with unnecessary force. “Though I’d like to see him get what’s coming to him. Thinks he runs this place.”

“Maybe you need a dose of this,” Wheeler said, flashing the puzzle piece under Taylor’s nose, who eyed it with disdain. “So sick of you losers not standing up to these guys. Maybe I will teach Trudgers a lesson.”

“I told you, you’re part of the problem, Wheeler,” sighed Taylor. “One day you’ll get it.” He gathered the sweets and drinks in his arms, and with one furtive glance at Wheeler’s affronted expression, traipsed off.

Wheeler examined the puzzle piece in his palm. It was heavy, like a large marble, and about the size of a teabag. The edges were sharp, with segments and grooves for the other pieces to slot into. All sides had these, so it had to be a centre piece. On what Wheeler could only assume was the front, was carved a delicate depiction of an eye with a wide glaring iris. From it below swept two golden lashes, as long as the eye was wide. Wheeler stared at it, mesmerised. It seemed to emanate a miasma of power. His fingers shook as he closed them over the eye, making it look as though it was blinking. If you had asked him then what it felt like, he would have told you the eye was alive, although he would not know why for a long time to come.

Shaking himself, Wheeler checked both ends of the walkway and stepped to the window. The water gleamed thickly below him, like grey tar. He gripped the handle of the window and twisted it open. It popped and creaked with misuse, only opening about a palm’s breadth. Wheeler tested the weight of the puzzle piece in one hand, and took a step back.

The splash of the piece hitting the water sent shivers up and down Wheeler’s spine. He felt cold for days afterwards.


	2. The Pond

The next day, Yugi was not at school.

It felt strange seeing his empty chair and untouched desk. Joey kept his back to it during class, feeling the eyes of Kaiba boring into his neck and swallowing lump after hard lump of guilt. The rain hammered hard against the windows all day, adding a dreary deluge to the already subdued chill of the morning. He was quiet in class for once, keeping his head down, nose almost on the paper, trying to ignore the tugging feeling that was egging him to the school pond, and the burning tingle on his right palm.

He was also given the added task of dodging Trudge and his cronies as they prowled the halls in search of his blood. Trudge still sported an impressive bruise, he noted, and one of them was absent with what turned out to be a broken rib. The thought swelled Joey with pride, despite the number of times he would have to dive behind some lockers or look pointedly at a teacher as enemies inevitably passed in the hall. This happened only once, and the boy stopped to draw a thick, bruising finger in an unmistakable sign across his exposed throat. Joey waved a few fingers at him in a crude gesture of his own behind the teacher’s back.

Last class of the day was Gym. Kaiba deliberately stationed himself close to Wheeler as they changed, surreptitiously eyeing his injuries. They were many, and some were raw, red as rashers. Wheeler slipped a tracksuit on as fast as a rabbit dodging a snare, and unintentionally caught Kaiba’s eye. The colour he turned made blood look pink. Kaiba looked away pointedly but the damage was done.

They were to play football. Much to their unanimous fury, Kaiba and Wheeler were to play on the same team. This lasted no more than ten minutes when both boys were engaged in a furious tackle that landed them both in the mud. Wheeler leapt to his feet, bellowing, and would have thrown a murderous fist into Kaiba’s stomach had Kaiba not the foresight to grapple Wheeler back to the ground where the wet mud incapacitated him.

They were sent back to the changing rooms in disgrace, given a double detention and made to read for the rest of the hour. This suited Kaiba just fine, since he would have remained after school buried in a book regardless. Wheeler, however was not so satiated.

In the classroom, with a bored chaperone silently marking papers at the front, Kaiba and Wheeler sat as far from each other as possible. Ten minutes in, a crude paper airplane fluttered to Kaiba’s desk, skittered across and plummeted down the other side. Kaiba sighed and debased himself by stretching down to get it.

‘ _Fight me’_ was written on it in barely legible scrawl.

Kaiba glared up at Wheeler from under his eyebrows and slowly, deliberately shook his head. Joey sneered, ripping another piece of paper from his exercise book. The second note was lobbed in a scrunched-up ball directly at Kaiba’s head. The teacher glanced up.

“What was that?” she said. Wheeler froze.

“Sorry, miss,” Kaiba said clearly, reaching below the desk. “I dropped my pen.”

He waggled the biro in the air, the paper concealed in his palm. Across the classroom, Wheeler was grey as gruel and still as the night.

“Try to keep quiet, now,” the teacher sighed, settling back into her chair. Kaiba waited until she was distracted and spread the paper over his desk.

‘ _I will fight you. I will fuck you up you smarmy dickhole fuckweed. You piss me right the fuck off and if you don’t fight me I’ll jump you after school and punch your stupid batty boy face in and I will jam-_ ‘

Kaiba stopped reading as another scrunched-up ball of paper rolled gently into his ankle. He quickly bent down and smoothed this out on top of the previous one.

‘ _ignore that last one_ ’

Kaiba peered at Wheeler across the classroom. He was hunched over his desk and his ears were burning.

-

Yugi reappeared at school the next day, looking as though he had recently been a corpse. He had grey bags under his eyes and his usually bright hair was a stringy mess, as though he had slept on it in his grave and not styled it again upon reanimation. He was bruised, untucked, and walked with a slight limp. Kaiba threw a startled and accusatory glare at Wheeler across the classroom as Yugi hobbled to his desk but Wheeler looked just as shocked at Yugi’s sorry state as Kaiba was.

Supressing an instinct to ask Yugi what had happened, Kaiba dove behind his book as he approached, expecting an unsolicited explanation, but none came. Yugi slid into his seat, haggard and lost, and pulled his books out, his back to Kaiba. Wheeler’s mouth was agape as if something heavy was pulling on his chin and the whole class was whispering all around, their voices as cold and rustled as the wind in the trees outside the window.

Yugi was known for being bullied, naturally, but no-one had ever smacked him around before. It was such an easy target and no-one was willing to settle for so low a fruit. It was simply mockery to see Yugi like this.

After class, instead of clinging to Kaiba as he usually did, Yugi stuffed his belongings away and vanished into the thrall heading to the next class. Kaiba watched him go, sorting slowly through his books, feeling an unsettling nausea in the pit of his stomach. Wheeler hung around, too. Soon they were alone in the classroom.

“He looks like shit,” Wheeler whispered. He was uncommonly pale.

“I noticed.” Kaiba swung his bag over his shoulder and moved closer, his arms held tightly by his sides. Wheeler was sitting on the edge of his desk, staring at the carpet and still as a cadaver.

Kaiba rubbed his face, drawing in a long breath.

“Maybe he fell down the stairs,” he offered weakly. Wheeler looked at him with dark eyes.

“You don’t get bruises like that from stairs,” he said blankly. Then he gathered himself and shouldered his way from the room. Kaiba hesitated, and then followed at a distance.

Outside the classroom all was quiet. Students could be heard from some distance away, cramming into seats, tossing bags onto desks and chattering like monkeys. Before him, Wheeler walked with purpose, making a left instead of a right, and Kaiba strode to keep up.

They were approaching an ancient vending machine next to a wide window. Kaiba huffed, irritated that Wheeler had led him along this journey that was making him late for class just for snacks. But Wheeler stomped straight past the vending machine and stopped at the window, whirling to face it. Kaiba wondered if he even knew he had been followed, but then Wheeler spoke.

“You reckon that’s deep?” he asked loudly. Kaiba approached the window warily. Peering past Wheeler, through the grey fog that was settling on this wet afternoon, he could see the concrete slopes of the grimy pond. He tried to measure the distance between the sickly-looking lily pads at the top to its murky bottoms, but the thing was too cloudy.

“Probably not,” he grunted, stepping back. “Why? Fancy a swim?”

Wheeler muttered under his breath, which sounded like, “ _I’ll show you swim_ ,” when the bell called loudly for them to start class. Wheeler caught Kaiba’s eye and barged past him without a word. Kaiba followed quickly, but again, instead of heading to the classroom, Wheeler turned left and jogged down a flight of metal stairs. Kaiba listened to the clanging of his steps turn into the hush of shoes on carpet and then the creak-and-whoosh of a door being opened into the wind.

Resisting the urge to rush back to the window and watch the pond, Kaiba marched to class.

Surely no-one would be that stupid.

Wheeler came to class half an hour late and rain-drenched. The sleeve of his jacket was soaked up to his shoulder and he had pond weed stuck to his elbow. The teacher stared in disbelief as he sat down before immediately sending him to the Principal’s office. Kaiba watched him roll his eyes and mooch out, resolutely ignoring his snickering classmates.

-

Final class was Gym again. Yugi had taken to skulking close to Kaiba once more, seemingly having forgiven him for his comment - coming to the rather accurate conclusion that it was in Kaiba’s nature to be snide. Kaiba noticed that puzzle box had not made a reappearance in a while. He would have asked about it, but Yugi was so closed-off that it seemed pointless

They were doing circuits this afternoon. Something Yugi actually brightened to when he heard. Competitive sports where not his style whatsoever, but exercise set at his own pace could be tolerable. Kaiba too felt some relief. His last spat with Wheeler had left some bruises he was still walking off.

Kaiba made sure he was in a group with Wheeler, eyeing him as he dropped into his first set of crunches. Leaning close enough to speak, under the pretence of stretching, he whispered,

“Did you go in the pond?”

Wheeler turned pink, but continued crunching.

“I stuck my arm in, yeah.”

“Gross.”

They stood as the whistle blew, and Wheeler practically ran to the weights. Kaiba stationed himself next door, lifting the dumbbell at a steady pace.

“Why?” he asked. Wheeler’s jaw tightened.

“None of your business.”

“You wanted to know if I thought it was deep today,” Kaiba muttered, switching arms. “Didn’t think you actually wanted a paddle.”

“Yeah, well, maybe there’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about me.”

They switched again, this time performing some embarrassing jumping jacks. Kaiba did not have another chance to grill Wheeler until they were back doing sit-ups.

“Is there something in the pond?” Kaiba asked, breathless now. Wheeler huffed, red-face, a sweat breaking out on his forehead. He sighed, back hitting the floormat as he laid down in defeat.

“Sit on my shoes,” he said.

“What?”

“Are you deaf?” Wheeler demanded. “I said sit on my fucking shoes.”

Kaiba rolled up carefully, planting his knees hard on Wheeler’s dirty trainers. Wheeler tested the weight and began to use the leverage to work his body slower. Kaiba was close enough to feel Wheeler’s breath on his neck.

“Yeah, alright, there’s something in the pond,” he ground out, pulling up to Kaiba’s cheek and then slowly lowering down, hands clasped behind his head. Kaiba watched Wheeler’s eyes dance across the floor and ceiling in turn, looking anywhere but at him. “I chucked something in there and I want it back.” He shuddered as he dropped back, feeling the burn in his abdomen. “It _is_ deep,” he added coming back up a third time.

Kaiba nodded curtly, too distracted with Wheeler up close to comment at all. He had a broad, straight nose and a curiously wonky mouth that twitched when he breathed and his hair was very yellow, but from this close, Kaiba could see his mousey roots.

Something in his gut twisted and he had to look away.

 “Very good,” came an enthusiastic voice across the hall. Kaiba jumped. “See how Wheeler and Kaiba are doing it?” Horace continued. “Lifting yourself slowly is better for your muscles. You can feel it here.” He patted his frail midriff beneath the loose jersey. “Everyone take turns to help each other when you do the sit-ups.”

Joey waggled an eyebrow in Kaiba’s direction, who ducked his head to hide his smile. Coach Horace wandered over.

“Good work, boys,” he said, looking pleased. “Glad to see you two getting along.”

Wheeler said nothing and mirrored Kaiba’s conceding smirk.

-

After Gym, Kaiba found himself hanging back in the hall. To his surprise Wheeler did the same. Predictably, they were asked to replace the gym mats together.

They manoeuvred the heavy blue mats into the cupboard, sliding them into position in a great pile. They made quick work of it. The mats were dusty, which Kaiba was loathe to touch (it made him itchy), but found he would much rather get a little dirty that admit being finicky to the brutish Wheeler, who was gripping the mats with strong-handed indifference. He had to smirk when Wheeler brushed all of the dust off onto his tracksuit knees.

“So,” Kaiba began when there was silence. “Why did you throw something in the pond if you’re just gonna dive in after it? Seems rather unproductive to me.” He leant himself against the haphazard pile of mats as Wheeler dusted down.

Wheeler had braced himself, probably expecting the inquisition. “It ain’t mine,” he said after a pause. “It’s Yugi’s”

“Yugi’s?” Kaiba was surprised. “So you _did-_ ”

“I wasn’t the one who beat that black eye into his head if that’s what you’re gonna say,” Wheeler said quickly. “That happened after. But I know who did it,” he ground out. “And I don’t like that.”

Kaiba suddenly pictured broad, slanted shoulders, a purpling bruise under thick-eyebrowed eyes, and his crony’s impressive limp.

“Trudge,” he said.

“Jerk has it coming to him,” said Wheeler. “I pounded on him once but clearly it wasn’t enough.”

“He approached me,” Kaiba admitted quietly. “After I saw you in the hallway. Offered to beat you up if I paid him. Apparently they make a living from it.”

Joey looked disgusted, and then something in his expression changed. It was like watching a fire come ablaze.

“Do they get the weak kids to do that? Pay for them to beat on their bullies?” he said. Kaiba nodded, watching Wheeler’s eyes search the space between them for a moment, before clouding over as his face settled into a shadow of revulsion.

“Those guys are so fucking low.”

“I thought it was rather pathetic, too,” agreed Kaiba.

The boys locked eyes in the dim cupboard, both leaning coolly on the gym mats. Kaiba with his fingers threaded over his chest, one elbow on the mats like they were an open car window. Joey with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, twirling with the loose threads he found there. Had they been friends, they might have shared a smile.

“Well, I’m going,” said Wheeler. He propelled himself easily to his feet and shuffled to the door.

“Detention, again?” Kaiba asked.

This time Wheeler grinned for real, a delightful treasure chest of chipped teeth, and offered a genial shrug of his broad shoulders. “Not for once.”

“I could help,” Kaiba found himself saying as Wheeler turned to leave. “With the pond.”

Wheeler paused with his hand on the frame and glanced over his shoulder. His expression was dark.

“No point both of us getting in the shit for it,” he said and with that he was gone.

Kaiba listened to him walk away, spending a few wayward moments examining the sparkling dust on his fingertips, before he too left the cupboard.

-

The next day, on his way to lunch, Kaiba was caught in a herd of stampeding students. He was bustled halfway down a corridor, surrounded on all sides at shoulder-height by excitable faces. Some even grabbed him and tried to turn him physically around but he shook off their grips and escaped to one side. All around him came a cry of,

“He tried to jump in the pond!”

“Did you see him? They dragged him out before he got to the middle!”

“I’ll never understand that guy, he’s such a freak.”

Kaiba watched them run to the window where he and Wheeler had stood earlier, pushing and shoving, and craning their necks for a view. Being taller than most, Kaiba merely arched on tiptoe and could see the pond reasonably clearly.

There stood Wheeler, flanked by three different adults, all bearing down on him simultaneously. From what Kaiba could see, he was shivering; drenched from the waist-down with weeds plastered to his shins. What looked to be the caretaker was talking animatedly on his phone and another teacher was trying to force Wheeler into a dry jacket. Wheeler began to protest until something above him caught his eyes. Kaiba watched him raise an angry fist and begin to shout, but the pane of glass between them muffled his voice.

“We can’t hear him,” the students were saying.  “Open the window,” someone else said.

They did so with a heave and a creak, and Wheeler’s clear voice cut across the clamour,

“You hear me, Trudge?” he bellowed. “Friday, after school! I’m going to sort you out.”

-

The day after that, there were fences around the pond.

Kaiba caught sight of them through one of the decrepit windows on the first floor. Tall, twisted metal sprouting from the ground like ugly, skinny walls, grey as concrete. The tops were looped with grim, barbed wire.

Wheeler was furious. He came back from his one-day suspension with a new bruise on his chin and a determination that made him glow, but it was not to last. Kaiba realised Wheeler must have seen the fences just after first break because it was then that he lost his straight-backed purposefulness and his set jaw. He stomped the halls from class to class like an angry phantasm on an incorporeal rampage. Unable to damage anything, he settled for gloom and doom wherever he went.

Towards the end of the day, Kaiba found himself late for computing. He had taken a turn about the schoolyard to examine the new architecture. It would be clear to anyone that the fences had been hastily erected overnight, shoddy and makeshift as they were. There was a bit of a slope on the other side, but if one were to twist this section away, one could clamber through and reach the water. But it would require a few seconds of wriggling and by then, there was a good chance you would get caught. If there were two people, Kaiba reasoned, one to pull the metal away, wide enough for the second to slip through, it would be done in less than half the time, provided they were agile enough. Kaiba thought of Wheeler during dodgeball, his lithe, quick steps, and knew it could work.

Then he scarpered before anyone caught him in this newly-restricted zone.

When he pushed his way into the computing room, nodding in apology to the teacher who merely gestured for him to take a seat, the only available space was right next to Wheeler, who was hunched in a corner. Since his vicious mood was unerring in its consummation of those around him, no-one was brave enough to sit beside him. Yugi waved sadly from across the room, both seats to his left and right taken.

Kaiba straightened his back and marched over.

When he sat down, Wheeler barely glanced at him. This changed as the lesson progressed and his eyes seemed to flick to Kaiba’s face more times than he clicked the mouse.

Eventually Kaiba looked over and their eyes locked. His stomach swooped then and Wheeler violently miss-clicked, sending a chunk of text to wrap awkwardly around the image it was supposed to be beneath.

“Shit,” he muttered, flushing beet. Kaiba watched him fruitlessly try to drag the text back for a few moments until he looked about ready to explode.

“Stop that,” Kaiba grunted, reaching over. At first, Wheeler tried to whip the mouse out of reach but when he saw Kaiba’s perfectly-aligned textbox on his screen, he slid it back across the desk.

“You just have to right-click this and select this here,” Kaiba said softly, “and then when this box comes up, press ‘OK’.” He let go the mouse without finishing the task and let Wheeler re-do it, pleased that he did not need a repeat of the instructions.

“Thanks,” said Wheeler quietly. “I hate this. It’s so hard.”

“It’s easy when you learn the rules,” Kaiba said. “Computers are like games. When you get the hang of it, you can play.”

“I’m not really into games,” said Wheeler, almost on reflex. “They’re boring.”

“You like sports,” said Kaiba.

“Yeah, but that’s different,” Wheeler argued. Kaiba watched him make the same error with another textbox, and then fix it by himself. “It’s like using your body and your muscles and it’s fast and you have to react a lot. Anyway, we don’t have games at home.”

“Nor do I,” Kaiba admitted. “My father doesn’t approve.”

“Neither does mine.”

Wheeler glanced at Kaiba again. This time he smiled. Sort of.

Behind them, the teacher shushed a group of girls who were giggling privately together. Wheeler whipped his gaze back to his monitor.

Kaiba waited until the teacher’s attention was pulled away to another part of the classroom before leaning closer to Wheeler. “I saw the fences,” he said, in a low whisper.

Wheeler’s face dropped into a scowl. “Yeah,” he said. “Assholes.”

There was a pause, and then Kaiba asked, “Why did you say you were going to face Trudge on Friday?”

“Because,” said Wheeler, sighing irritably, “I found out that’s when he and his stupid loser friends corner kids after school and make them pay him money to beat up other kids. I’m gonna get Yugi there, gonna give him the puzzle thing back to make a point and then pound Trudge’s face in.”

“That’s stupid,” Kaiba snorted. “He’ll have all his back-up with him.”

“I’ve fought them before,” Wheeler snarled with a shrug. “I can do it again.”

Kaiba almost admired the bravado. He pursued his lips so that they wouldn’t betray him and smile. “I went to have a close look,” he said, for something to do with his mouth. “At the fences.”

Wheeler stared at him. “Why?”

“To see if there was a way in,” Kaiba said, quickly and evenly. “You only have two more days before you said you were going to get even with Trudge. And what if they just fill in the pond? We need to do it soon. There’s a way in but I think you’ll need my help.”

“I don’t really want your help,” snapped Wheeler, arranging another textbox.

“But you need it,” said Kaiba, nodding pointedly at the screen. Wheeler’s scowl deepened and he was silent for a long minute.

“Fine,” he said eventually. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

-

Upon leaving school, Yugi squeezed through the elbows and heavy bags of the throng clambering towards the school gates in an effort to be free for the day, to catch Kaiba as he headed to the library. He appeared panting, with his little hands on his little knees.

“You’re looking better,” Kaiba commented, “dubious fitness aside.” Yugi grinned and Kaiba let him catch his breath. Then he took off with his usual lengthy strides. Yugi hurried into step, taking two for every one of Kaiba’s.

“Are you going to the library again?” Yugi asked, looking at Kaiba’s heavy bag, when the outline of several books could be seen pressing into the fabric.

“If it looks that way, it probably is that way.”

“Oh.”

Kaiba glanced down. Yugi looked a little put-out by Kaiba’s stand-offishness.

“Are you coming?” Kaiba asked, partly to make Yugi feel better, and partly because it seemed a prudent question since Yugi was half-heartedly pulling back.

“Erm, no,” Yugi said, coming to a full stop. Kaiba followed suit. “Actually I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For helping me to stand up for myself.” Yugi puffed out his chest a little and Kaiba said nothing, feeling lost. “See, there was someone who I guess really was bullying me the other day and I stood up to him. I think you helped me feel more confident to do that. You’re always so confident. I just thought about what you would do if you were there.” He grinned again, and this time Kaiba saw the hollow gap of a missing tooth.

“You stood up to Wheeler?” Kaiba babbled, confused. Yugi looked shocked.

“No, why would I do that?”

This was hardly a stumper. “Er, because he’s an asshole to you?”

“Oh,” said Yugi again. He seemed to search for an answer. “Well, actually I think, in a way, Joey is trying to be my friend. I think he just doesn’t know how.”

“No,” Kaiba laughed, his patience fast waring. “He’s a bully, and he’s awful to you. Any simpleton can see that.”

Yugi’s eyes seemed to pity him, and his smile was full of kind sadness, which was making Kaiba bristle, so he changed the subject.

“So Trudge, then? You told Trudge to take a hike?” he asked.

“Well, not in so many words.” Yugi’s hands drifted to the bruises bluing his cheekbones. “But I wasn’t going to let him manipulate me like he wanted to. I just want him to leave me and my friends alone. Maybe if he comes around, he might want to make friends one day.”

Kaiba could hardly listen to it. He pinched the bridge of his nose hard and laughed into his hand. “Are you joking?” he demanded, surfacing. “Are you deluded, you dweeb? People don’t all get along in the end, Yugi. People fight; someone has to _win_. And it looks like _one_ of your problems will disappear this Friday because Wheeler is on a suicide mission. Maybe a startled Trudge is easy to take down but Wheeler doesn’t stand a chance against a prepared Trudge. Even you must know that.”

“Joey is going to fight him?” Yugi gasped. “But why?”

“Because he’s an idiot?” Kaiba suggested venomously. He switched his heavy bag to the other shoulder as a sign he was leaving. “I know that he took your puzzle piece by the way. He’s not a good person.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Yugi muttered. He was turning crimson. “I think he _could_ be. If someone gave him a chance.” He reached into his pocket and held out a crumpled bit of lined paper for Kaiba to take. He did so, and recognised the untidy scrawl as Wheeler’s.

‘ _come to school Friday after hours. I have something to give you and something to say. This isn’t a trick or whatever, just come. JW’_

“Not suspicious at all,” Kaiba commented, returning the torn page. Yugi snatched it up as if it were precious. “I wouldn’t go if I were you. Trudge is going to be out for blood. And it’s just Wheeler after all.”

“I shall,” Yugi snapped, hoisting his backpack up defiantly, making him look like a hiking gnome. “I’m going to go and I’m going to help Joey somehow. It’s the right thing to do.”

With that he spun on his trainers and shuffled away, leaving Kaiba alone in the cold, beginning to dread agreeing to be involved at all.

As he turned to continue his route to the library building, his phone rang sharply in his pocket.

“Hello?” he answered, ducking out of earshot from a small group of lingering girls who were comparing science notes in smug tones.

“Master Kaiba,” a curt voice replied and Kaiba felt himself bristle. “The deal has come through. You completed the challenge. Congratulations.”

Kaiba let out a breath he was unaware he had been holding. “We did it?” he demanded. “The money is ours?”

“Yes, Master Kaiba.”

Kaiba sank against the wet bricks of the library wall. His fingers trembled.

“Then do it,” he said, his voice shaking with fervour, his arms erupting in a thousand goosebumps. “Buy them out. What we discussed. Everything.”

“Very good, Master Kaiba, but I don’t think it will be enough,” his advisor warned. “You will need at least two more percent to come out on top.”

“We’ll find a way,” said Kaiba quietly. He looked in the direction of the pond. “Bullies will always be brought down.”

He hung up, drawing his fingers to the pendant around his neck for one brief moment, and then headed to the library.

-

“You didn’t have to come,” Wheeler said as they scaled the incline that led to the pond. It was cold out, the skies heavy with rainclouds and the horizon looming with a thick grey mist. School was finished for the day. Kaiba had spent his customary hour in the library and gone home, waited a few hours, and returned, under the guise that he had left homework behind. It had been difficult to persuade his father to allow him out again when it was almost dark, and he was likely to get a beating if they found out the truth.

He wondered why he was risking such punishment for a lump of metal, but when he saw Wheeler’s face, softened in a grateful kind of carriage, that twist ate into his gut again and he found courage anew. It bothered him that he could be so affected.

And then he thought of his father’s lined scowl, and Trudge’s nasty sneer, and decided that he was doing the most valuable thing in the world.

“I’m still considering reconsidering,” was all he said.

Wheeler reached the fence first and laid his hands on it carefully, feeling for the place Kaiba had mentioned. There was little light, only the fading sun on the horizon and the weak fluorescent glow from the school windows above them on the walkway. Wheeler steadied himself, gazing into the depth of the glistening pond.

“I hope there’s not like, really slimy weeds in there,” he whispered. Kaiba said nothing and took his towel from him. The thing was scratchy, and had holes in it. Wheeler gripped it for a moment as if he could derive strength from it. He met Kaiba’s eyes.

“Alright,” he said. “Keep a look out.”

Kaiba nodded once, and pulled the fence back.

It came away with a teeth-rattling metallic screech. Wheeler wasted no time in wondering if they were heard, and Kaiba was right about his agility. He was through the fence like a shot, already stripping on his way to the pond. He slid down the slope on his rear, only stopping to really shiver when his toes hit the water.

“Argh!” he hissed.

“Shut it!” Kaiba warned, peering down the way they had come, searching for a silhouette hurrying across the drab tawny grass. “Do you want to get caught straight away?”

“Shit!” Wheeler insisted, but in a whisper. “It’s so cold!”

“What did you expect? It’s night!”

There was a small splash as Wheeler slipped his ankles in the water.

“Holy fucking, oh my god, fuck, shit, fucking Anubis’ stringy left bollock-”

“Someone’s coming!” Kaiba hissed, ducking.

There was another splash, louder this time. Wheeler was in. About forty feet away, the tiny beam of a keyring torch could be seen skittering over the grass. Kaiba slipped down the slope and ran at a crouch to the edge of the building, bracken and coarse grass scratching at his clothes. He tidied his hair, and flicked the odd bit of twig from his school uniform before emerging into the light, straight-backed, as if (he hoped) he had just left school.

“Kaiba,” came a surprised, withered voice. Coach Horace. “What are you doing out here? You do know this is a restricted area?”

“It is?” Kaiba said, in a bored voice. “I just came out here to read.”

“In the dark?”

“It was light when I started,” Kaiba said. This much had been true, although that was many hours ago and he hoped Horace did not realise he had left school since then.

Coach Horace tried to peer past Kaiba at the pond. Luckily, Kaiba’s shoulders were broad, and the area was not well-lit, and Horace’s eyes were bad, so even if Wheeler had been doing jumping-jacks on the other side of the fence, Horace would have had a hard time seeing him.

“I thought I heard a splash?” he said.

Uh-oh.

“I, er, I threw my book.” Kaiba slapped himself mentally.

“You threw your book in the pond?” Coach Horace repeated rather flatly.

“It annoyed me.”

“Hmm.” It was clear that Horace did not believe him. He just hoped being a favourite among the teachers would work in his favour once more. “Well, you’ve been here far too long.” Kaiba at last could let out his breath. “Off home, now please.”

“Of course, sir.”

Kaiba allowed himself to be herded into the corridor and escorted to the front door. When he was sure Coach Horace had shuffled away, he turned and ran back along the wall, ducking under the school windows and dashing back to the pond as fast as his hunched legs would carry him. When he reached the fence, Wheeler was hanging half out of it, drenched and shivering, trying to reach his towel with trembling fingers. Kaiba grabbed it from the ground and thrust it at him. Wheeler rubbed his face and his back, teeth chattering and the towel came away filthy.

“W-where’ve you b-been?” he demanded through bluing lips.

“Doesn’t matter. Did you get it?” Kaiba asked. As an answer, Wheeler opened his palm. Glittering in the rapidly-ascending moonlight, was the piece of the puzzle. The muddy water from the pond seemed to have no effect on its gilt surface. It was as shiny as if it had just been polished. “Great. Let’s get out of here.”

Kaiba helped Wheeler scramble through the fence. He smelt pungently of dirty water and old slimy weeds. His hair was slick and wet and he would not stop sneezing. Together they made for the front gates, where Kaiba’s ride stood waiting, engine still thrumming on the side of the road.

“Well,” said Wheeler, turning to Kaiba and wiping his nose. The towel was draped over his shoulder, gently stinking. “Thanks for the help.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Right.” Wheeler seemed to go for a handshake with his dirty digits and then changed his mind, whipping it up to scratch the back of his head. Instead, he gave an awkward sort of shrug and goodbye grimace, spinning on his heel to leave.

“Hey,” said Kaiba, and Wheeler halted. “Are you really going to do it tomorrow? Fight Trudge?” Wheeler turned back slowly.

“Someone’s got to,” he said with a tight shrug. He waved a hand, turning to leave again, but had not gone more than four paces when he stopped once more, whipping back to face Kaiba with a stern look tugging down his eyebrows.

“Don’t come,” he warned. “And don’t try to stop me!”

With that he slouched off. Kaiba watched him go. He let out a long sigh through his nose.

“Someone’s got to,” he muttered to himself, flicking pond scum off his sleeve.

-

“So there’s _no-one_ that can do anything about this?”

“Like I said,” Taylor enunciated, “not really. Even if you are telling the truth, which I _doubt_ , then all we have is your word and rumours to go on. The teachers here won’t go against Trudge anyway.” His face dropped into an angry scowl and he aggressively underlined an equation with a blue highlighter.

They were in the library, minutes after the final bell had rung. Kaiba had been on the hunt for him all day, but Taylor’s exams were approaching and any spare time he had was spent deep in study. Kaiba finally discovered him in amongst the books, just as he had given up the hope of finding anyone to do anything about Wheeler’s reckless behaviour, retiring to the library to lose himself in a book and hope that Wheeler would at least make it out with as few broken bones as possible.

Unfortunately for Wheeler, Taylor was proving to be less than helpful. He was sat at a small table in a corner with one other empty chair, surrounded by open physics textbooks and an assortment of coloured highlighters. He had barely looked up when Kaiba strode over, but nodded to the empty chair as an indication that Kaiba was permitted to sit there. Kaiba had loomed over him instead, until Taylor was forced to look up.

“Well, can’t you just give him detention or something?” Kaiba said in an undertone, incensed. Taylor shook his head.

“For what?” He kicked his chair back and stood, grabbing his back and stuffing his pens into it. “For you not liking him?”

“For planning a fight!” Kaiba cried. Several students glared at him. He ignored them. “He’s destroying the reputation of this shitty school. They all are.”

“And you’re just what? A concerned citizen?” Taylor snorted, gathering his books. “Can’t fool me, Kaiba, I know who you are. And I know you’d like to see Joey expelled. You guys have been fighting since you _got_ here.”

Taylor shouldered his back and stomped around the table, slamming several books onto a shelf with unnecessary force as he headed for the door. Kaiba jogged after him.

“That’s completely irrelevant,” he insisted, falling into step with Taylor as he strode out of the library. “Wheeler is going to take on Trudge _now_. Alone. Ill. He’s going to be fucking murdered. What about the teachers that were there when Wheeler challenged him?”

“They weren’t _teachers,_ they were gardeners. All Joey had to do was tell them he didn’t mean it and ‘boom’, no more issue.” Taylor swung to a stop and peered into Kaiba’s eyes. Kaiba stood stiff, as when his father scrutinised him, seeking out weakness. “Why do _you_ care anyway?” he asked. “If this is true, then why are you even bothering?”

“I don’t know,” said Kaiba honestly. Taylor grunted and made to move along but Kaiba blocked his way. “Something about it seems… important somehow. And Wheeler’s clearly got a death-wish. Although you could argue the pros outweigh the cons of that…”

Taylor seemed unsatisfied and pushed past. Kaiba sighed, frustrated.

“Taylor, come _on_. What can I say that would make you-?”

“Kaiba, this isn’t about what you tell me,” Taylor hissed irritably, rounding on him. “Wheeler is complicated, okay? He puts up with a lot of shit at home and at school too, so he has to act all tough to get by. He’s an idiot, and he’s probably not going to pass even one class, but I at least owe him to not just sling him under the bus because _you_ tell me he’s up to something.”

“I am _not_ slinging him under _anything_ ,” Kaiba barked, pushing in front of Taylor as he made to exit. “For God’s sake, this whole thing is stupid anyway. If I’d just left it alone instead of letting him jump in that stupid pond to get that gold thing back for Yugi-”

“He- he what?”

“Actually, no, if I hadn’t even told him about Yugi sulking upstairs before, he wouldn’t even have _bothered_ to-”

“Kaiba, a gold thing for Yugi?” Taylor had dropped his books and was gripping Kaiba’s shoulders. Kaiba shook him off. “You’re sure?”

“I was there. He got it back yesterday.” Kaiba folded his arms as Taylor grew paler by the second. “He’s going to give it to Yugi and then fight Trudge. I don’t know what he thinks this will achieve but he’s decided it’s the way to do things. Like I told you. Ask _Yugi_ if you don’t believe me.”

Taylor did. “I gotta go.” He took off at a run down the corridor.

“You’re _welcome_ ,” Kaiba grunted at his fleeing back. Then kicked his dropped books over for good measure.


	3. The Dusty Cupboard

Kaiba did not see the final altercation between Trudge and Wheeler, but he sure heard about it. The rumours scattered through the school like rats fleeing a sinking ship. The story seemed to shift and change with each retelling but as far as he pieced it together, the tale went thus:

After he fled Kaiba in the corridor, Taylor had searched the school at a dead run for the site of Wheeler and Trudge’s showdown. When he found them, tucked in a corner of the yard behind the math rooms, Trudge was leering at Wheeler who was rapidly backing against a wall, the puzzle piece clutched tightly in one hand.

“Came alone, didja?” Wheeler was saying. He was visibly shivering and his nose was running. The cold from the pond was taking full affect. “I’m surprised. Thought you couldn’t get by without your little army of one-brain-cell goons.”

Trudge’s hands balled into fists. “I owe you one, don’t I?” he rumbled pleasurably in his deep rattling voice, his eyebrows knitting over the bridge of his nose with evil intent. He was so tall and broad and impossible to beat, like a tank with two long arms that could punch you very hard. It was terrifying.

Summoning as much courage as he possessed, Taylor flew past Trudge at Wheeler.

“Joey, come on, let’s get out of here!” He grabbed his shoulder, trying to pull him away.

“Tristan, quit it!” Joey snarled, shaking him off. “I’m here to sort this out. This moron won’t be picking on kids anymore.”

In response, Trudge cracked all his knuckles one by one. Taylor found himself swallowing thickly and squaring his shoulders for a punch-

Just then, a boy sprinted around the corner. Red-faced and with wild, spiky hair atop a trembling body was Yugi, desperately trying to catch his breath.

“Joey, don’t!” he had cried, skidding to a halt a good distance from where Trudge stood leering. Trudge whirled about, taking in Yugi’s sudden appearance with a frown. “He’s not worth it!”

Behind Trudge, Joey grinned, shifting his shoulders up one at a time until his neck cracked. “This is for you, Yugi,” he said, “catch!” and tossed the puzzle piece high over Trudge’s head. It clattered onto the tarmac at Yugi’s feet.

“I’m getting a teacher!” he cried, scooping up the nugget and turning to run.

“You will not!” shouted Trudge. And before any of them could react, Trudge slammed a fist into Yugi’s side and sent him tumbling into a wall, where he slumped to the ground and fell still. There was a terrible silence. Then-

“You should not have done that,” roared Wheeler and launched himself at Trudge in blind fury.

To all the company’s surprise, Tristan joined him. Having realised there was no way he was dragging Joey away from this, and with Yugi’s lifeless form curled up a few feet away, Tristan decided the best thing he could do at that moment, as a leader and a friend, was to help.

And, he reasoned, as his fist connected with Trudge’s ribcage, the brute did have it coming.

According to the story, even with Taylor on his side, a weakened Wheeler stood no chance against a raging Trudge in peak physical health. They stood their ground. They hit, they kicked, they bit (when they could reach) but it was not enough. Trudge was thick like five tree trunks stuck together and his punches felt like wrecking balls. Tristan took a particularly nasty kick to the groin and slumped onto the ground, unable to move. Wheeler’s ribs were cracked, his eyes purpled and his lips bloody before Trudge even had a scratch.

Shakily getting to his feet for the fifth time, with Tristan whimpering on the ground somewhere behind him, Wheeler faced Trudge across the yard.

“Come on,” he managed. “Is that all you got?”

Trudge laughed, a cruel, deep sound that cantered in echoes off the walls. “You can’t hurt me,” he cried triumphantly. “I am the strongest man there is in this school. You’re _nothing_.”

Wheeler was silent for a few moments, wiping blood off on the back of his hand.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, facing forward despite Trudge, who was now advancing on him with menacing steps. “But I realised something. Being a man, being _strong_ , ain’t about who you can intimidate.” He saw with relief that Yugi was stirring, and drew strength from that to press on. “It’s about who you help. It’s about learning what’s important to people and helping them find it. It’s about things other than yourself. Or money, or being good at winning.” Trudge leered over him, and Wheeler felt his hot breath on the bridge of his nose. “I learned that ‘cause of Yugi. And I won’t let you hurt him anymore.”

Then with the last strength left in his body. Wheeler stood straight-backed as Trudge drew back his fist.

From then on in the story, the details became fuzzy. Some say a teacher showed up and stopped the fight before Wheeler was actually killed, and sent Trudge away for good. Some say that Yugi had shown surprising dexterity and somehow took down the bully himself by leaping on his back like a little goblin and choking him until he passed out.

Others said - although they said it in scoffing tones, as if who would _possibly_ seriously believe _that_ – that Yugi suddenly drew some powers from somewhere. He had glowed as bright as a star, and stood up to twice his normal height. He had advanced on Trudge, who was beating Wheeler into a senseless bag of broken bones, and pulled him away, challenging him to a fight, a game of sorts. With his glowing eyes, his clever smile, and his fast mind, Yugi had won. And Trudge had gone mad, driven to believe that every fallen leaf he came across was a crisp, slip of money.

Ah, the rumour mill.

There was undeniably a strong sense of relief about the school over the following weeks now that Trudge was gone. When they returned from recovering from their crippling injuries, Wheeler and Taylor both were hailed as heroes. It was a subdued celebration however, as none of the faculty were to know that they were responsible for Trudge’s disappearance. When he caught his eye during English, Wheeler gave Kaiba a wan sort of smile that he reciprocated with a curt nod.

He was less pleased however, when Yugi finally returned and immediately entered into a strong friendship with Wheeler.

Yugi was looking good, Kaiba noted. He had an air of renewed strength about him, shining like a polished stone. He seemed taller somehow, and spoke with more authority. His smile was wider, a new tooth growing in place of the one that Trudge had knocked out and his clothes had been mended. He wore the completed puzzle about his neck on a long chain.

Kaiba should have been indifferent, he should have been pleased that he could get back to reading comfortably undisturbed, but the way Wheeler slung his arm over Yugi’s shoulder as he laughed at lunchtime – the same arm that had once held Yugi’s precious toy aloft until he broke down – Kaiba could not help seeing red.

He cornered Yugi after Music, a subject that Wheeler did not take. In a dusty walk-in cupboard filled with untouched string instruments and partially-covered electric keyboards, Kaiba tugged Yugi inside and blocked the door.

“So,” he started, as the last of the students filtered out the classroom behind him, “making new friends, are we?”

Yugi looked confused, but not intimidated. He absently caressed the glittering pyramid puzzle at his navel.

“What do you mean, Kaiba?”

“I’m referring to Wheeler.”

Acknowledgement drew itself across Yugi’s face. He smiled.

“Oh, Joey?” he said happily. “Yes, I suppose he’s my friend now. He defended me.”

Kaiba could feel himself purpling. He grabbed one of Yugi’s lapels and Yugi cried out in surprise. Kaiba wanted to shake him.

“Are you serious?” he demanded. “After the way he treated you? After hurting you and being cruel to you? Trying to make you _more like him?_ You want to just forget it all and be best of friends?”

“He gave me back the puzzle,” Yugi whispered.

“He _threw_ that stupid thing in the pond in the _first_ place!” Kaiba half laughed, letting go. Yugi righted himself and hugged the completed puzzle close to his chest.

“Everyone deserves a second chance, Kaiba,” said Yugi. “Don’t you think?”

Kaiba could only stare. After everything Wheeler had put him through, how he had spoken to Yugi, what had happened with the puzzle, Yugi was willing to forget all that to be friends with him?

Kaiba felt his hands ball into fists at his side.

“Well, I hope you dweebs will be very happy together,” he spat. “You deserve each other.”

With that, he spun on his heels and stormed out of the classroom, the anger threatening to consume him.

-

The next day, Kaiba spent his time doing his utmost to avoid what he had dubbed the Dweeb Duo, skirting around them in the hallways and hiding his face in every class behind increasingly bigger books.  He could not stay elusive forever apparently, as at lunchtime, when he was seated by himself at the end of a long, deserted table, pot of untouched pea soup to his left, Wheeler finally caught up with him.

“Hey, yo, Kaiba,” he began, but Kaiba cut across him.

“Don’t speak to me,” he said evenly.

Wheeler blanched but seemed otherwise unperturbed. He glanced over his shoulder. Behind him, several tables away stood Yugi, encouraging him with little gestures of his arms. On either side of Yugi stood Taylor and that girl, Gardener. What a merry crew, thought Kaiba grimly. A veritable Dweeb Patrol now.

“Hey, come on, now, Kaiba,” Wheeler said, slipping into the seat opposite. “You helped me out a lot the other week. I owe you.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Kaiba said, raising his book above his nose so that he would not have to look at Wheeler’s imploring eyes and scruffy, fly-away hair.

“Well, maybe it’s not for me, maybe it’s for Yugi,” Wheeler said in a low voice. He sounded closer, so Kaiba peeked over the top of his book to find he had leaned forward as close as he could get without climbing over the table. His gold-flecked earthen eyes were inches from Kaiba, dancing like sun on fresh soil.

Kaiba hid him with the spine of the book again.

“Come on, Kaiba,” insisted Wheeler, bravely tilting the book. “Yugi’s upset and he wants to be pals. I thought I might be able to come talk some sense into you, since you helped me and all and now that I’m looking out for Yugi-”

At that Kaiba let out a bark of a laugh, choked and disbelieving. Wheeler frowned.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded.

“You of all people,” Kaiba spat. “You who treated him like shit on your heel for years, are suddenly his defender? Do you have any idea how _stupid_ that sounds?”

“He’s a good kid-”

“And you are the _worst!”_ Kaiba bawled. He stood with such force that his chair banged to the floor and the pea soup tipped over, splashing green all over the table and the polished floor. Wheeler jumped back as the lunchroom fell deathly silent. Taylor and Téa tensed, ready to intervene and between them, stood Yugi, his eyes swimming. Around them students were pinning them with curious stares, itching for a fight to break out, and in the tremendous silence, no-one dared move.

Feeling cornered, Kaiba lowered his hackles and took a step towards Wheeler who, to his credit, did not flinch.

“This afternoon, last period. I’m going to destroy you,” he hissed.

Wheeler looked stunned. He peered into Kaiba’s eyes. Feeling as though Kaiba was aching for him to ask, he swallowed and said,

“What’s last period?”

With a smirk that set Wheeler’s teeth on edge, Kaiba whispered,

“ _Dodgeball._ ”

-

They changed on opposite ends of the locker room. Yugi stood next to Wheeler, his large eyes shooting furtive glances across the bodies to where Kaiba had stationed himself. Kaiba ignored them, yanking his polo shirt so violently over his head that it almost ripped.

In the sports hall, the boys were stationed side-by-side and Coach Horace eyed them up. The electricity crackling between Kaiba and Wheeler must have been tangible because Horace raised two withered, bony fingers at opposite ends of the line and picked them for Captains. Stood beside each other, a bone-chillingly formal three-foot distance between them, the rest of the boys looked on in fear.

“Pick your teams, boys,” Horace barked.

With a long, elegant sweep of him arm, Kaiba indicated for Wheeler to choose first. He grinned nastily, and pointed to Yugi.

Yugi turned white and sidled up to Wheeler, refusing to look in Kaiba’s direction. There was a smattering of confused whispers from the rest of the class. Since when was Yugi picked first?

Kaiba rose above all of it and calmly assembled his team with silent ire.

 “Alright,” said Horace, when all boys were awkwardly grouped around one towering king or the other. “Shake hands, Captains.”

With a bone-crushing squeeze, Wheeler twisted Kaiba’s fist in his. Kaiba did not so much as flinch, but angled his jaw so strongly that Wheeler mirrored it and cracked his neck. The teams shuffled into their positions, eyeing each Captain with wary apprehension. Yugi slunk to the back, as far as he could go without actually leaving the hall.

“Ready!” shouted the Coach, and blew a sharp rap on his whistle.

The first ball shot at Kaiba with immediate insistence and he only just managed to duck it, feeling it whip a few stray hairs in its trajectory to scalp him. That should have been a foul, he thought, as he snatched the ball from where it bounced off the wall in a mighty arc, but Horace deigned not to call it. There was too much electricity in the air to deal with the formality of rules. Kaiba would remember that.

Kaiba flung the ball hard away from him, towards Wheeler who was spinning on the hunt for dropped balls, barking orders and encouragement at his teammates. It was at this moment Kaiba saw how he shone, glowing like Orion as he brought them forward, determination etched into his sure features and the biggest, fieriest smile Kaiba had ever seen.

For reasons he would never, ever be able to explain to himself, Kaiba felt like he wanted to explode.

He faltered in his throw and tripped up the boy next to him, who was taking aim, a ball in his hands, and the boy was knocked off-balance. It was too late to draw back the shot and the ball left his hands to sail through the legs of the one he was aiming at and strike Yugi hard on the shoulder.

Being smaller than most, aiming for Yugi was generally not done, as it was so easy to hit his head or shoulders. Besides, a stray ball would catch him sooner or later, and since he hated the game anyway, sometimes he would deliberately walk into the ball just to be out quicker. To have a ball very suddenly and violently rip back his shoulder was quite a shock. His knee hit the ground as he whimpered, and Wheeler whirled around, halfway through powering a throw that might have taken Kaiba’s whole head off.

To Wheeler, Kaiba suddenly disappeared. He skidded to a halt and tossed the ball aside. He ran right over to Yugi, drawing him up to full height and running a worried hand over his injury. Then, when he saw all was well, he pulled Yugi into a friendly embrace and let him take himself to the far wall to be out.

Kaiba watched the whole thing and something inside him snapped.

Nobody was prepared for that wild, unbridled eruption that drew him to rip a ball from a teammates hand and charge over the centre line, fist drawn.

No-one could make a move to stop him as he slammed the fist into Wheeler’s solid left shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground with a cry. The whistle went, hard and piercing. Horace was coming over as fast as his old legs could shuffle him. Everyone held their breaths as Kaiba raised the ball with both white-knuckled hands, and nobody moved.

Nobody except Yugi.

“Kaiba, don’t!”

With a cry, Yugi hurled himself in front of Wheeler, flinging his little arms out like a barrier, but it was too late. The ball had left Kaiba’s hand and whipped through the air. It slammed straight into Yugi’s face harder than a fist and he hit the ground on his hands and knees, blood pouring from his nose.

“Jesus, Kaiba!” Wheeler scrambled over and pulled Yugi’s hands up to check the damage once more. He was sobbing, his face red and still bleeding. Wheeler dragged him to his feet.

“Permission to take Yugi to the med room, sir,” he said urgently. Horace who had hurried over, took Yugi by the shoulders with fatherly tenderness.

“No, Wheeler,” he said curtly, “you stay here. Stevenson, you take him.”

Stevenson, a short, curly-haired boy with a nice sort of face took Yugi by the shoulder and gently led him from the room.

“Everyone else,” said Coach Horace, turning to the remaining students, who were all watching with horrified expressions, “go get changed. Class is almost over anyway. You two,” he added as the others began to disperse. Wheeler and Kaiba took a deep breath and stood facing him. “Come with me.”

The followed him like guilty convicts trussed and chained, to the storage cupboard, where he held the door open for them to enter. Once inside, he addressed them,

“You two are in disgrace,” he said. “I have never seen such appalling behaviour. I expected better from you,” he directed to Kaiba, who averted his eyes. “I’m going to go have a pill, and a strong cup of tea, and when I come back, I want to see this place tidy.”

Wheeler looked horrified and Kaiba made to protest.

“Don’t even start,” Horace barked and it shut them up. “There is a duster in that bucket over there. Open the window if you like, but I want whatever it is,” he gave them a poignant glare from under his eyebrows, “sorted in half an hour. If it’s not, you stay until it’s done. Understand?”

The boys looked at each other, the fury and competition ebbing away, to be replaced by something companionable and tolerant. They were in trouble together at least.

“Right.”

“Understood.”

“Good,” said Horace, and left them to it.

Alone now, in the quiet sobriety of the dingy store cupboard, Wheeler and Kaiba eyed each other warily, Wheeler scowling hard.

“I can’t believe you threw that at Yugi’s face,” he said vehemently. Kaiba rested his elbows on either of his palms, defensive but ashamed.

“I was aiming for _you_ ,” he said with a tight sigh. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry Yugi was hurt.”

Wheeler looked away, scuffing the dusty floor with the toe of his trainer. In silence, they looked around the cluttered cupboard. The various balls from other sports were scattered haphazardly in the wrong cages, big mixed with small. The weights were an unorganised mess, and the blue landing mats were wonky on their stand. The whole place was covered in that omnipresent dust layer. Wheeler ran a hand along the grim surface of a blue mat, tracing a wonky outline of a dragon.

“Do you think he actually meant the storeroom?” he asked, already knowing the answer. He cleared his throat as Kaiba struggled with a wan smile.

“I don’t expect so,” he said.

“Right.”

Wheeler went back to scuffing and the silence drew on. Kaiba sighed, letting the guilt of breaking Yugi’s nose seep into his pores. Wheeler bit his lip.

“Maybe we should do some anyway?” he said.

“…Okay.”

They started on the mats, pulling them off and rearranging them so they slotted into the trolley better. Then they sorted the large gaming balls from the smaller ones, digging out the tennis balls from the outside, and rolling them to the tops of the baskets one by one. When those were organised, and the benches stacked neatly, they took to dusting, taking it in turns to clean the surfaces whilst the other moved items out of the way. It was quiet, but amiable work. Kaiba found himself watching Wheeler’s strong arms, large and long, dappled with freckles and covered in downy brown hairs.

When they were finished, both boys left the cupboard to survey the hall.

“Better put these back, I suppose,” said Wheeler, indicating the dodgeballs scattered about the hall.

“You gather, I’ll catch and put in the basket?”

“Yeah, alright.”

Wheeler sauntered into the hall, picked up the first dodgeball and chucked it from chest height to Kaiba, who caught it deftly and disappeared for a few seconds to toss it into the basket. They continued in this fashion until all balls were tidied away except for one. Wheeler picked it up, rolling it around in his hands.

“Was checking for blood,” he said by way of explanation.

“I don’t think it happens that quickly,” Kaiba said, stepping aside as Wheeler re-entered the cupboard. He carefully placed the ball in the basket on top of the others.

“Is there blood on the floor anywhere?” Kaiba asked.

“No, I don’t think it was that bad,” Wheeler said quietly.

“Good.” There was silence as Wheeler gazed unfocused at the balls in the basket, then Kaiba said, “I wouldn’t have thrown it at _your_ face, you know. Your chest or something. Somewhere you could defend.”

“Mhm.” Wheeler still did not look up.

“I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

Wheeler sighed, dragging a dirty hand through his hair and sauntering over to Kaiba. He hopped up on the mats and slouched, swinging his legs.

“You got issues, Kaiba,” he said.

“So do you,” Kaiba retorted. Wheeler shrugged, swinging his legs higher.

“My old man makes things hard.”

“Same.” The word was out before he had a chance to stop it. Kaiba could feel himself turning ashen, hoping against hope that Wheeler had no idea who he was. If he did, Wheeler gave no indication, merely said,

“Hm. Maybe it’s something we got in common.”

Allowing himself to deflate, Kaiba absently said,

“I think we have plenty in common.” He caught himself and added, “I don’t get myself hurt like you do, though.” He thought of Wheeler’s scars, searing and red on his skin.

Wheeler looked angry. “I gotta fight or I’ll explode,” he admitted. “The only reason I stopped now is because of Yugi. If you say I’m a weakling or something-!”

“I think it makes you stronger, actually,” said Kaiba without pause.

The rhythmic thudding of Wheeler’s legs smacking against the mats suddenly ceased as he froze, turning a pink like a distant sunset. He gulped like a goldfish.

“If you think so,” he whispered.

In the silence, Kaiba shook his head to clear it, searching for a change of subject.

“I’m hoping that someone will be able to make sure Yugi is taken care of,” he said with trepidation. To his surprise, Wheeler laughed.

“He’ll be fine,” he said easily. “I’ve had way worse, trust me. And he probably has too. From Trudge or someone.” His eyes darkened and his fingers twisted into fists against the mat. “To think that could’ve been me one day. Beating him up like that.”

“You gave him back the puzzle piece,” Kaiba said, shrugging. “You made that choice.”

Wheeler nodded, looking solemn.

“He’s not so bad,” he said, almost to himself. Kaiba hesitated, then with a small hop, took a seat next to Wheeler, who made no move to slip away, or to stop him, just watched him with lidded eyes.

“You too,” he murmured.

“What?” Kaiba said.

“You’re hot- _not_ so bad,” Joey said, fumbling and blushing. “Er, at dodgeball. I men- _mean_.” He slammed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “ _Fuck._ ”

Kaiba spluttered with mirth and Joey flushed badly. He folded his arms and scowled at the varnished floor.

“Shut up.”

“You’re such a freak.”

“Give me a break.”

Kaiba’s eyes skated over Wheeler’s form. Lithe, and strong-backed, with a rugged jaw and amber eyes. His hair was like shafts of sunlight, his mouth a seam of pink. When he was up-close, and not covered head-to-toe in bruises that smacked of street thug, he was actually good-looking.

“I know you aren’t actually that bad, Kaiba,” said Wheeler, filling the silence. Kaiba said nothing, just kept looking. “I was an ass to you too. Sorry about that.”

“I don’t think I made things easier,” Kaiba admitted in a mutter. “My father would be… disappointed.”

“Mine wouldn’t give a shit about the fighting,” said Wheeler and his face suddenly bloomed the colour of a rose. “He would probably rip my throat out if he knew I wanted to kiss you though.”

Kaiba cleared his throat and made to twist his head away.

“Yeah, no, don’t,” Wheeler whispered, hoarsely, and his rough hand came up to stop him, pulling his cheek back around. “I’ve never done this before, but I think I liked you from the first day I saw you in English.” Kaiba’s heart hammered in his throat as Wheeler silently closed the distance between them.

Kaiba relented – who knew if he would have any peace if he didn’t – and dragged his unwilling lips to Wheeler’s.

It was warm, and close, and careful. Gentle rubbing and pulling and parting. Wheeler’s hand in his hair cautiously, as if it might be snakes, not hair, and his shoulder pressed against Kaiba’s own shoulder like a warm pillar holding him upright. His toes were tingling, his heart slamming a rhythm through his sternum. His brain felt like pudding, and still Wheeler kissed him, warm and now wet and so tingly-

A shrill ring made them both jump so hard they almost toppled onto the floor. Kaiba dove down and ripped the phone from his gym sock, fighting the blush and the urge to flee. Wheeler sat beside him unmoving, looking guilty and jubilant.

“Hello,” Kaiba tried. It came out like someone trod on a squeaky toy. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Seto speaking.”

A sharp voice spoke on the other end in a rapid, panicked tone. Wheeler watched, waiting, twisting his fingers through a lost piece of plastic that had come free from the mat. He saw Kaiba turn pale, his knees trembled, and he dropped against the wall. Even as he watched, Wheeler could see Kaiba’s expression change. He resurfaced looking crueller, tougher, and far more tired than Wheeler had ever been in his life.

Kaiba stood and strode straight to the cupboard doors, not even glancing at Wheeler as he passed.

“Hey, so, will you be around tomorrow?” Wheeler said, hurrying to his feet. His face was still red, his tongue rubbing his lips.

Kaiba glanced back, his face half bathed in light from the gym, looking slanted and wrong.

“I highly doubt it,” he said, “with any luck I won’t be back for a long, long time.”

“But… you will be back, right?”

Kaiba locked eyes with him across the dark room. He smiled, and it was the coldest thing Wheeler had ever seen.

“Not as you know me,” he said. “In fact, it’s probably better if you forget we did this at all. Things have changed. And you have Yugi now. And the others. Some things are just better off that way.” He opened the door, squinting at the lights. “We’re not meant to be friends.”

“We could be something else.” Wheeler tried not to sound hurt.

Kaiba looked at the phone, and thought about how terribly different things were now. He would like to have told himself that he was torn, but really this place had never been for him. What was waiting for him at home, who he would be when he woke up tomorrow, only that mattered now.

So he did the only thing he could think to do, like a dog caught in a corner: he wounded.

“Not with _you_ ,” he grunted, swinging the door open. “Have fun with the Dweeb Patrol and don’t stay in touch.”

Not even daring to look at the startled expression on Wheeler’s face, Kaiba swept out of the gym, grabbed his bag and clothes from the changing rooms, and sped for the exit.

Past the English classrooms where Joey had first glared at him through his dirty fringe. Past the deep, murky pond with the high fences that was already part-filled in, dump-trucks empty and silent after a day’s work, with piles of sand and dirt half sliding down the grassy slopes. Past the library where he could see Taylor scribbling hard, hunched over a table with Téa and Miho. Yugi there too, with an icepack to his nose. He imagined Joey joining them, swinging his bag onto the table, red-faced, grumbling about how awful Kaiba had been to him. The school seemed tiny as he fled it, and he did not feel sorry to leave.

As he got in the waiting car, Kaiba took one last look at the place. If he had to go back – and it was likely he would – it would be far easier this time. Keep the distance, friends and enemies alike. Let them forget him, let them forgive him. When he came back, none of it would matter. It would be insignificant.

In the car, as he watched the school fade into the mist, his phone rang again. He answered it confidently, and a smooth voice spoke over the soft rumble of the road.

“Your brother has transferred his shares to you, Master Kaiba. KaibaCorp is yours. Congratulations.”

The whole world would be tiny now.

_The End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I know I twisted canon a little for this story to work, I hope you didn't mind!
> 
> I posted this on Fanfiction as well under the same name. Beta-read by ThePaperCrocodile.


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